Weapons' Rest
by Addict to Fanfics
Summary: They were the King's loyal Black Shields but more than that, their level of skill meant they were termed human weapons. Most had no true understanding though that the human part of the title was as telling as the weapon part. 3nd of Weapons' miniseries.


_Long AN. *sigh* My apologies. I intended to post every month even if it was small or done ages ago and just sitting about. I missed posting in November. If it makes any difference I intend to post two pieces on Christmas eve/Christmas so there will be at least three in December. I will try working on the other half-done pieces I've mentioned in other AN but at least there will be two more this month. A _Sherloc_k (preseries) piece, as my current writing obsession and a _Narut_o (sequel to Red) piece - are what I currently plan on posting. The other options are _Jedi's Apprentic_e or _Hp/Now You See Me_ (slight) xover both of which are _quite_ short pieces (.5k). If you have a preference of which 2/4 you'd like posted then, PM me and I'll consider which to post._

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Having just finished his latest guard shift he headed down to the training grounds to loosen up his stiff joints after having stood at attention so long. Looking to the sky as he approached the practice rings he watched as dark clouds quickly rolled in. It was definitely going to rain soon. He could smell the moisture hanging heavily in the air. Others had noticed the blackening sky also and were quick to finish there bouts and put up their weapons to escape the coming downpour.

He disregarded those that scurried past him heading for the castle's shelter and unhurriedly headed to the shed that held the practice weaponry. Rain, after all, was only a bit of water. It wasn't like he was going to rust in it. Entering the shed he stood his own sword off to the side. There was no reason to expose it to the coming rain if it wasn't needed; besides, even a wooden sword could be deadly in a Weapon's hands if necessary.

He walked along the wall holding the swords running his hand along their worn hilts and selected one at random. The edge was blunted and covered in dents from those that had previously put it to enthusiastic use against another of its kind. He held it aloft and made note that the balance was off between the blade and haft because of the materials it was made of. Its handle was well worn and the leather grips ill-tended but it sat comfortably in his gloved hand. In short it resembled his own sword only in its shapes' general proportions. That was all he needed of it.

As he left the shed it began to rain. The light pitter-patter of drops hitting the dirt filled his ears as he walked to a more secluded ring in the back of the training grounds. People stared enough upon seeing a Weapon when the weather was nice out, no need to give them a spectacle by training in the rain. By the time he reached the ring the rain had turned into a steady, though still light, shower. Standing in the practice ring's center he waited and watched the world turn gray and blurred beyond the ring's border under the increasingly intense downpour. He easily ignored the water that weighed his uniform down. His teacher had had him train in worse.

Blinking away the rainwater that poured down blurring his vision, he focused on the sword he'd brought with him. It was an ungainly thing he noticed as he practiced a few swings with it, attempting to judge its worth. In his hands it felt nothing like his own well maintained sword. He'd need to focus on his movements to ensure they were up to his usual standards and to ensure he didn't do anything as foolish as causing himself harm by over or under compensating for the weapon's imbalance. That was exactly why he'd left his own sword behind. It wouldn't due to become complacent with having everything to exacting standards. Sometimes all you had was whatever you could scrounge up, quality be damned in the face of expediency.

One had to be able to adapt. So he did. Slower movements at first as he adjusted his grip on the worn leather of the hilt to ensure that despite the rain he held it tightly. There was no reason to risk injury to himself or another for simple training. Content that his grip was sufficient enough to counter the rain's interference he began slow strikes against an invisible opponent. Left, right, up or down. A block, strike or dodge. Slow at first and somewhat clumsy owing to the swords imbalance, though still impressive by common standards, but increasing steadily to true Swordmaster combat speed as imperfections were compensated for.

He let the world fall away. All that existed was his opponent and the fight between them. That focus was what he sought. He felt the adrenaline rush into his system as he flowed through the movements, his body warming as his routine progressed. He went through the simplest forms first, then progressively advanced drills. Eventually the effort took its toll and he started to feel his limbs drag more heavily against gravity's influence. He frowned slightly before wiping the look off his face. He would need to practice more. Even if it was raining today his endurance had suffered since the last time he'd had the chance to do a full set. With that in mind he finished the set he as working on before going through a shorter series of simple drills to cool down his muscles.

He was done with training for the day. His breathing was heavy and his arms shook from the prolonged exertion. He took a few moments to calm his body to its usual rhythms before heading toward the weapons' shed, the practice sword now held loosely in his grip. It still rained steadily as he walked back though the intensity of it had waned somewhat. He ran his free hand along his face and through his hair in a bid to remove a measure of water from them on entering the shed. A futile effort as he had to reenter the rain to reach the castle. Moving through the shed to the wall that held the remaining swords he placed the weapon back upon its rest before affixing his own sword to his waist once more. After it was secured he headed towards the door and paused looking out into the rain. As wet as he was reentering the rain held no appeal.

He sighed before stepping out and closing the weapons' shed door behind him. As unappealing as walking through the rain was standing around in a wet uniform was no less unpleasant, or perhaps it was more so as his body was no longer kept warm by movement and the soaked uniform chilled his form. He headed up to the castle, still walking sedately so as not to cause panic if observed, and to the dry clothes and bed that were within. Black Shields were human weapons, but even weapons still needed their rest when not in use.

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_For this one the focus was supposed to be on the human element of human Weapons. That's why there were comments on him not rusting, rain blurring his vision, not being able to immediately use any weapon with precision, the shaking arms and hard breathing... you get the picture right? They're Human weapons not automatons._

_Review, Please? _

_That was fun. I do have more ideas for this series. A short piece on Weapons' Maintenance and an idea for Weapons' Edge. Maintenance is half done and more of a drabble than story; Edge is only just started. I'll try to finish them eventually, unfortunately I've put aside GR for now in favour of my more recent category addiction. BBC Sherlock! (ah, well, among others, many others...) Sorry GR fans but I'm just so changeable!_


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